As Long As She Still Lived
by Kura-sama
Summary: He still hated her, and she knew. He hated because he cared. She took pride in the fact that she was still alive despite it all. As long as she still lived, it was proof that he needed her more than he hated her. And for her, that was enough. SessKag
1. As Long As She Still Lived

::peaks out from where she's hiding from angry mob::

Gomen!

I'm so sorry for not updating Chancery and Serendipity for so long, but I will get around to it ... eventually. They will be finish, never fear. I bring you this one-shot as a peace offering, hope you will like it.

I have conflicted feelings about it ... I like parts of it, but feel that it could have been better. But when I edited it the original feel that I was going for was changed, so I left it as is from the original product. I think it might be confusing in some parts ... hopefully there's no glaring problems.

Well, onwards to the fic!

Disclaimer: The anime and manga of Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi-sensei and the respective producers. I claim no ownership of any characters or plot from Takahashi-sensei. Anything else is mine, please do not reuse without permission.

Rated for allusions to Violence.

**As Long As She Still Lived**

* * *

He was a demon.

He was a demon, and she was human.

He was immortal, indestructible; she was so weak it was pitiful.

So fragile.

It made him want to hurt her. Break her. Watch her bleed.

He was a demon, in every sense of the word. How could she refuse to understand that?

He was going to be her death. He knew this, with the same certainty that he knew she was going to be his. For however determined he might be, he could never escape her.

Sometimes he hated her with such a vengeance, he could tear her apart piece by piece. He would revel in the feel of her life blood flowing over his hands, spreading on the ground. What a beautiful sight that would have been.

It was baffling why she was still alive, really.

It infuriated him that he could not deny her. The fact that such an useless, insignificant being could hold so much power over him cut deeply into his rigid pride.

Demons are arrogant creatures. He could not begin to describe what an insult to his pride that simple fact represented.

If he had known that he would be walking down this path of destruction when he first set eyes on her, he would have immediately strike her down where she stood with no mercy. However, he had disregarded her as unworthy of his attention.

He had seen the condemnation in her eyes at his cruelty. He was not a creature of mercy, and had proven that to her time and again. Yet she still refused to acknowledge his true nature. The nature of the demon, the nature of the untamable beast.

Demons did not wish. He had never wished before, before the disease embodied in this _human_ took over him. To wish is to admit one's helplessness, and he was anything but helpless. He did not wish; he made it happen. He knew he could do anything, have anything he wanted, and therefore he did not wish. There had never been any use for something as foolish and empty as wishes.

But now, he wished. He wished he had never met her. He wished she had no influence on him. He wished he had killed her when he had the chance, when he still could. He wished many things. So many foolish, impossible wishes.

Most of all, he wished she had left him alone. Yet he knew, that if she were to do so, he would have hunted her. He detested the fact that he could not leave her nor forget her.

Once he had considered her to be an entertainment. He baited her in battle, carelessly leaving a cut here, a bruise there. Sometimes, he would play with her until she was within an inch of her life. But he would never finish the game, never leave her for dead. Always, she would eventually heal and stand against him once more. Once, he would have ended it, could have ended it, if the game ever ceased to amuse him. But that was a long time ago.

Then, she was a distraction. He could not ignore her, even though she had nothing of worth. He found himself purposely straying from his intended course in order to intercept her path, pretending that it was all a coincidence. He had claimed that she was always in his way. Although, if truth were told, he was actually in hers. Not that he would ever admit it.

Now, she had become an addiction, an obsession, a poison - potent and deadly. A poison that he was almost willing to bare, almost. He blamed her for being so irresistible. A poison hiding behind the guise of sweet nectar. He never knew he had a sweet tooth, or a death wish.

He wanted to be rid of her with a passion, yet he thirst for her. He needed her but he was repulsed by her. She was everything he had ever loathed and everything he had ever wanted. She was the bane of his existence; she was his very existence.

He wondered when would this tedious, twisted dance finally end. To what end, he was not sure.

Would it be her death? His death? Would it end even then? He could not say. He hated not knowing. It was just one more thing he hated about her, one more rock making up the mountain. He had lost count how many. She really did bring out the worst in him.

He had been secure in his position, comfortable with the way he had been existing. But all that changed when she intruded so tactlessly, destructively into his sphere of existence.

He was steadily being driven insane, he knew this with a deadly certainty. For what other reason could there be, that he would even think of his own demise? Was he so desperate? Had he really fallen this far?

The only thing that disturbed him more than her existence was the knowledge that yes, indeed he had fallen this far. The endless plunge that had removed him from his godlike pedestal had not been a pleasant one. So very far from it.

He was livid, because _she_ had no idea at all of his inner turmoil brought by her mere presence. This infuriating _human_ still went about her life content as can be, with no regard to his sufferance at all. Even more aggravating, she insisted that she understood when she did not have the faintest inkling. If she had, she would have seen that every moment, she treaded the thin line between life and death. For every moment, he struggled between the need to kill her and the need to protect her.

Maybe he really should just tear her throat out and be done with it.

Maybe the sight of her crimson blood splattered upon his claws would sooth him, even for a moment.

Maybe he was only imagining that he could not exist without her.

But he know he was only fooling himself, making up excuses upon excuses to convince himself of a deed that was entirely futile. Whether she continued to live or not no longer made a difference. She had already made an inerasable mark upon him. An ugly scar that had no hope of healing. A travesty of existence.

Or so he told himself.

And then the moment came, and he could no longer deny the inevitable. The moment when her quest was finally over. When she smiled at him, infinitely forgiving, infinitely sad. When she bid farewell to every member of her mismatched little gang, and fell into the well for the last time.

She did not even say goodbye.

She did not need to. The implications were obvious.

And so he had wandered, going where his feet took him. He watched those around him grew old, turned into ashes. He watched the forest fell, concrete jungles sprung up to replace the past. He watched. He waited.

He waited until he no longer recognized the world. No longer recognized himself. A remnant of the past, who had no place in this alien world. And yet, he existed.

Often he thought back to the one who had brought about this intangible but definite change in him. He was a proud demon, but that was in the past.

Sometimes, he still fancied that he abhorred her enough to kill her. It was a nice illusion.

He did not know how long he had finally accepted the fact that he was waiting for her. That her prophesized renewed presence was what pushed him to keep existing.

She controlled him, even when she was no longer there.

It was laughable. He almost found it hilarious, if only he did not despise himself so much for caring. Did not despise her for making him care.

He knew exactly the moment she was conceived, a sudden awareness that made the air hum with anticipation.

He knew precisely when she was born, her glaring essence slicing with unerring accuracy into his senses.

He counted each time she disappeared, only to reappear again. He left her to live her life without his interference, waiting.

Of course, he knew the exact moment she returned to her world for the final time. Yet, he waited.

He did not know what he was waiting for, only that he was not ready to face her. He did not think he would ever be ready.

Time had mellowed him enough to accept the obvious bond between them, but it was not enough to dim the edge on his hate. He wondered if it was even possible for him to ever reconcile with his being, to ever be at peace again.

He had not planned to reveal himself to her at all, but fate was cruel. If he was not going to bring himself to find her, it was going to bring her to him.

It really should not have been such a surprise when she ended up doing her internship with the caretaker of his museum.

She had blinked at him, and greeted him as if she did not know who he was. But they both felt the connection, the painful jolt of recognition. A connection of the spirit, a recognition of souls.

He would not be so corny as to say they were soul mates, though he was not sure how the offending human regarded their unorthodox relationship. He knew she could leave him as much as he could leave her. That was to say, never. Not that she seemed terribly unhappy about their predicament. In fact, she seemed to rather enjoy it.

She _was_ the the one who refused to leave him alone. And she _had_ confessed to him.

Not that it had any effect on him. Of course not. None what-so-ever.

He was an expert at lying to himself, considering how much practice he have had since he met her. He blamed her for the deterioration of his sanity, his pride, his very self.

She sought him out barely a few days after the initial meeting. He was waiting.

He still hated her, and she knew. He hated because he cared. She took pride in the fact that she was still alive despite it all.

As long as she still lived, it was proof that he needed her more than he hated her.

And for her, that was enough.

* * *

I'm thinking of maybe doing a companion fic from Kagome's POV, and also possibly an epilogue. I'm not sure, I'll see what people think and if any inspiration strikes. 

Please review and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism welcomed. Point out any grammar problems to me please, I tried to proof-read it as well as I could but I always manage to miss things XD


	2. Her POV

So I finally managed to write the companion fic from Kagomes POV. I am working on a sequel, a multi-chapter story set in the modern world after they meet up and would be a continuation of what happens at the end of this.

Well here we go, hope you enjoy!

**As Long As She Still Lived**  
Her POV

* * *

She was human.

She was human, and he was a demon.

Not just any demon. He was a demon Lord, and one of the strongest Lords at that.

She was as weak as he was strong. She knew that if he ever got it into his mind to kill her, she would be slain where she stood faster than she could think.

Why she was still alive was one of the greatest mysteries in her life. Mind you, her life has been full of mysteries. One after another, each stranger than the last.

Was she the really reincarnation of a great miko? Why was the Shikon no Tama inside her body when she was born? How did the mistress centipede awaken from the bottom of the well? How did she just happen to be living beside a well that was a portal through time? Why was she dragged through the portal? How did a naive, modern girl like her manage to survive the demon infested Sengoku Jidai for as long as she had?

Really, she had been pondering day and night upon the issue of why had he not kill her yet. Had she not stood up against him one time too many? Had he not toyed with her enough? Heaped injuries upon insult. Bruised her and bloodied her. Again and again.

She wondered if he would ever put her out of her misery. She wondered at the demented amusement she could faintly detect in his eyes when he struck her down. She wondered at the increasing frequency of his visits.

Most of all, she wondered when he had ceased to be just another demon after their lives, ceased to be the evil half brother of her first love, and became _Sesshoumaru_.

A living, breathing, demon Lord who found a strange sort of delight at baiting her.

She thought she was losing her mind. It was the only plausible reason why she would be _noticing _him. She was sure that she was the only one who saw the fleeting but definite emotions in his eyes, his elusive faint expressions. They were so miniscule that she half thought she could be hallucinating, but she knew without a doubt that they were there.

And she was noticing them. Observing. Becoming entranced.

She must be even more sick-minded than he ever was, to be so captivated by him.

Of course, like any hot-blooded female faced with such a fine specimen of male anatomy, she had looked at him in appreciation when she first laid her eyes on him. His cutting remarks, insults, and repeated attempts at removing precious body parts from her and her friends gave that appreciation a swift death.

But it was not like she can look and not see the regal way he held himself in all his glory. The way her thoughts strayed to him without her consent, the way she kept her eyes on him in battle hoping she did not have to fight him for all the wrong reasons. She had pushed everything into a dark corner, never to look at again.

What was it with her and being attracted to demons who tried to kill her?

She was unaware when she obtained such a death wish.

She did not know when she started to anticipate his visits. She did not want to examine the way her inner organs fluttered whenever he looked at her in that way that was solely for her. That sounded so romantic, except he looked at her like she was the epitome of his hate and frustration.

She knew a look of obsession when she saw it. She knew that he would have killed her if the only thing he felt for her was hate. The fact that she still lived to face him again stood testament to the fact there was something strange happening between them.

That was alright, because she was obsessed with him too.

It become a grotesque game between them. An intricate dance. How far could she push him? How far would he let her?

He was a poison to her soul. She could feel herself falling from the her light into his abyss.

It should scare her that she no longer cared. It should, but her world had narrowed down to him and everything about him.

The way he would strike her body but caress her soul. Protected her but left her in danger. Hated her but needed her.

It almost made her proud that she had survived it all, and still lived to stand against him at every corner.

She knew they needed his help as the final battle drew closer, and had shamelessly abused that reason to sought him out whenever she could. A few hints here, some nudges there, and she could manipulate Inuyasha into going anywhere she wanted. He might have thought they were hunting shards or Naraku, but she was hunting one stubborn elusive demon lord.

She would not have been able to sense him if he did not want to be found. He would not have been found if he did not want to find her too.

He was a tangle of paradoxes, and she was enjoying unraveling him too much. To much to give him up for the sake of her health, both mental and physical.

When she blurted out her feelings for the first time, it was a surprise for the both of them. He had just saved her from certain death, again, and was making to leave her when she could not control her outburst.

He had stood frozen for a moment before he disappeared in his flash of light. Leaving her stranded in an ocean of demon guts.

Once she had said them, they could not be retracted. She became even more determined in making him see her. Accept what was between them.

It was not a gentle flowery feeling that she had. No, something weak like that would never have any hold over someone like him. It was a need to possess. A dark desire. An obsession.

She _wanted _him. And in doing so, she had shackled herself to him. The great thing about shackles was the other party would be shackled as well in return.

He was stuck, whether he admitted it or not. Accepted it or not.

When the time finally came to defeat Naraku, he was there to help them. If she were more conceited, she would have thought he was only there to make sure she survived.

He stayed throughout the aftermath of the battle, a stone pillar on the peripheral.

She could feel the pull of the well as soon as the jewel was whole and pure again. She guessed that it was a message to her, that her time in the past was up. She had completed her purpose, although she really had no idea what that purpose was.

Fate was such a fickle mistress.

Before even a day had past since the devil's demise, she was bidding her friends her last farewell.

He was there.

She looked at him with everything in her soul, and let herself fell.

He did not need her goodbyes. She knew he would be on the other side of time, waiting for her.

And she was not disappointed.

All her life, she had been aware of a tickle on her senses. Someone watching from the shadows. She thought she must have had a guardian angel.

Now that she had experienced what they had gone through, she finally knew what that tickle was.

He had been watching. Waiting. All this time.

She was not surprised when he did not come to seek her out after she returned. She had not really expected a mere five centuries to change him. What was time to a creature of eternity?

If she had waited for him, she would have gotten nowhere. He was like a rock. Hard, harsh, unchanging.

She must become his waterfall.

Anyone who knew her would know that once she had gotten it into her head to do something, she never did it at half mast. It was all or nothing.

And she gave her all, she was a force to be reckoned with.

She went through the right classes at college, made the right connections, dug up the right channels. Before he knew what hit him, she was apprenticed to the curator at his museum.

She almost broke her facade and laughed at the look on his face when he saw her, but she held it in and greeted him as if they were strangers. She knew that he knew. He must have felt the same connection that she did, and that was enough.

She would have liked to fancy them as soulmates, but even she was not as naive as that. That word implied some intervention of fate, of inevitable chance. While she did not know if fate brought her into the past to meet him, but she knew everything since then had been made reality through the force of her will.

Why wait for fate when she could do it herself?

He was waiting when she went to him only a few days after their reunion.

He might have thought it was some strange twist of fate they were together. He might have believed that he truly hated her. But she knew better.

If fate did not stand a chance against her, what made he think he could?

Her shackles would never let him go. He was hers for life. But she would allow him the illusion of free choice.

She knew he cared enough to stay, and that was enough.

Afterall, she had all the time in the world to erode him.

He never saw it coming, her poor demon.

* * *

Remember, Reviews make authoresses happy! ^_^

Coming eventually:

Demon Mine - continuation of As Long As She Still Lived

Kagome was a force to be reckoned with she set her sights on something, or in this case, someone. Sesshoumaru never stood a chance.


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